Left Behind
by renisanz
Summary: Many questions arise when Ronon brings an mysterious young woman to Atlantis. There are no easy answers. A sequel to “Leather” and “Let Go.”
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE:** Left Behind  
**AUTHOR:** renisanz  
**SUMMARY:** Many questions arise when Ronon brings an mysterious young woman to Atlantis. There are no easy answers. A sequel to "Leather" and "Let Go."  
**CATEGORY:** Drama/Mystery/Romance  
**RATING:** PG-13  
**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own 'em, but they're fun to play.  
**NOTES:** This story contains some spoilers for Season 4. See my fic "Let Go" for background on Ronon and Jenifer's relationship up to this point, because the events of that story are directly referred to in the opening scene. Story is set sometime during Season 4, after "Quarantine." Teyla's not pregnant, but the Athosians are still missing.

I strongly suggest that you read "Leather" and "Let Go" (in that order), before you read this; they're both only 2 chapters, so it won't take that long. This story may be a bit confusing in some parts otherwise. Or, ya know, you can just dive into this one. ;)

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Dr. Jennifer Keller was daydreaming when she heard the alarm sound, signaling an unscheduled offworld activation. It startled her every time it rang out, but this instance was colored by the fact that Ronon had finally—wonderfully—kissed her.

They had been waiting to be rescued after being locked in room in one of Michael's abandoned labs. It took her only a moment to recover from the shocking sensation of Ronon's warm mouth pressed against hers in a gentle, yet slightly urging kiss. Then she figured she'd better kiss him back if at least to show him that she was in fact still interested in resuming what they had started during the quarantine lockdown on Atlantis some weeks earlier.

But as Ronon's fingers grazed the back of her neck, Jennifer leaned a bit more into the embrace, her hand coming to rest against his chest. She wondered whether it would be too forward (like it mattered at this point) to fist her hand in the fabric of his shirt, and pull him closer because this was their first kiss and, _boy, was it amazing, and sweet and so very tantal—Mmmm. _She nearly moaned at the feeling of whatever his hand was doing to the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck, and was pretty sure that was the reaction he was trying to elicit. Their lips met again and his tongue caressed the inside edge of her lower lip, and she nearly lost all rational thinking ability at that point—until a thought thrust itself before her id.

_Wai__t . . .what if we don't die horribly? _It was that single, sobering question that caused Jennifer to pull away. Their current situation, while private, was not an ideal one in which to indulge in their previously missed opportunity.

And then the Sheppard and McKay showed up, having figured out how to unlock the door to the lab. _Perfect timing as ever, McKay, _Jennifer lamented.

However, Jennifer was truly appreciative of being freed from the room as well as reluctantly thankful that McKay had not overridden the security lockdown a second sooner. It was enough having to explain what had happened to her shirt (she was glad she could blame her flushed face on the embarrassment on that incident) without the added complication of being caught making out with her temporary roommate.

Now her radio came alive with Chuck's voice on the other end requesting a medical team to the Gateroom, she practically flew from behind her desk, going through a mental checklist of the supplies she would need.

"Is there info on the nature of the injuries, and how many?" she asked.

"Uh. . .no apparent injuries, ma'am."

"I don't understand," she replied.

"Er. . .Ronon's on his way to you," Chuck voice sounded as confused as Jennifer felt at the new information. She allowed herself a brief moment to bask in the relief that Ronon wasn't mortally wounded. But then, he could be injured and just on his way with someone else. The man once had a knife of glass embedded in his shoulder and still had insisted that others be treated before him.

"You might want to bring a wheel chair," the Gate technician suggested after a pause.

"Wheel chair?" Dr. Keller mouthed the words, and then looked to Nurse Marie Ko and asked her to go and retrieve one. Confusion was not good when facing a medical emergency. She quickly recovered and decided that the sooner she got to Ronon, the sooner she could figure out what was going on. She motioned for the medical team to follow her as she informed them, "Let's go. We'll meet him on the way here."

Jennifer skidded to a stop in front of the transporter as the doors slid open. She was taken aback for a moment as she took in the scene before her. Ronon stepped out into the corridor, with an unfamiliar young woman curled in his arms. There was something unmistakably tender about the manner in which Ronon cradled her against him, and in that moment she knew the woman was not at all unfamiliar to Ronon. Her eyes were closed and her tear-stained face contorted in pain. Eventually a small cry escaped her lips and Keller's gaze followed her hand as it went down to brace the swell of her abdomen. _Oh God._

"Ronon, what happened?" Jennifer motioned for the wheelchair to be brought forward even as her eyes scanned him for any sign of injury he may have been hiding. It was obvious now who it was for.

Ronon just shook his head as he regarded the girl in his arms.

"How far along is she?" Jennifer asked, for the first time meeting Ronon's eyes.

"Not far enough," his deep voice was calm and stoic, but his hazel eyes betrayed the worry he was feeling. Ronon made to put the woman down in the wheelchair, but she clutched his neck tighter as she seemed to experience another wave of pain. Contractions.

"Is she injured at all?" Jennifer needed to know.

Jennnifer saw something flash briefly behind Ronon's eyes before he simply said, "No."

"Ok, you can just carry her the rest of the way. Come on." Ronon responded with a curt nod, and then Jennifer practically ran behind him as he made his way to the infirmary. Her mind was racing ahead as well, putting forth possibilities of what equipment could be modified to convert into an incubator, among other things in order to prepare the infirmary for the possible arrival of a premature baby.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

_Two hours earlier. _

Ronon sensed it when he first stepped through the Gate. He and Teyla had emerged through the event horizon on the world of Mira, into a large clearing, and the nearest township was several kilometers away. It was late spring on this planet and the sun arched high overhead. It was a and typically beautiful day and everything would have seemed normal with nothing to indicate a cause for alarm—except for the eerie quiet. That's what gave it away. Though they were a distance from people, there should at least be the sound of the indigenous wildlife—birds chirping, insect buzzing—but there was only silence. Even the wind was still.

Teyla's hesitance backed Ronon's suspicions that something was amiss. He watched with an every growing feeling of dread as her head tilted in that familiar way, listening for the sinister voices only audible within her own mind.

"What is it?" he asked, grabbing her arm to bring her out of the trance. He thought he knew the answer—

"The Wraith have been here," she hissed.

His feeling of dread was instantly replaced by that of barely controlled rage. Not here. _Not now._ In an instant, his gun pistol was armed, set to kill, and he made purposeful steps towards the settlement.

"Ronon, wait," Teyla placed a placating hand on his arm now. "There is. . ." she shook her head as if uncertain, ". . . something else."

"The Wraith?"

"No. . . _someone_ else. The wraith have gone."

Ronon was very unsettled. Teyla's powers had never manifested themselves in a way in which she was able to sense another human. Could it be some type of trick? He wasn't sure how much the wraith knew of Teyla's mental abilities, if at all. However, something told Ronon that they should probably find out what—or whom—this was.

But first he had to find _her_.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Cold.

That is all she had felt from the moment she awoke that morning. She rolled awkwardly onto side when she felt her husband get up from their bed. She felt the dip in her mattress as he leaned forward, bracing himself on his forearm as he leaned forward to brush a kiss against her brow.

Unfortunately his touch did little to warm away the feeling. She smiled anyway, pulling blankets up over her shoulders as she opened her heavy lids to look up into his dark brown eyes.

"Must you go out this early?" she said, but it was practically a yawn.

Her husband just smirked down at her before lowering his head to press a tender kiss to her lips. "You know I must," he sighed. She watched his face as his eyes drifted down to her growing belly. "Especially now," he smiled. "I must provide for my two favorite girls."

They'd had this conversation many times before, in various forms. "How are you so certain it's a girl?" During her entire pregnancy she had never asked him outright.

Her husband paused before he answered, seeming to serious think about it for the first time. "Well, I am not absolutely certain. However," he nuzzled her freckled nose with his, "it would be very unfortunate for all your beauty to go to waste. I'd very much like to see it passed on to our daughter."

"Mmm. . . wonderful answer," she giggled as her fingers combed through the short, blond waves of his hair. It was times like this that she was glad Ronon Dex had opened her eyes to the potential of the man to which she had eventually become bonded. He was probably the only man she knew who was humble enough to admit to preferring a daughter over a son.

He kissed her once more before backing away. "You should rest."

"Yes, I should," she agreed. "I had a restless night. This little once did not seem to want to sleep at all," she groaned as she rolled onto her back.

"Ronon's coming later today?"

"Yes. I've already finished his order. Hopefully I can acquire a few hours of sleep before he arrives," she replied as rubbed a soothing hand over her abdomen. The baby seemed to calm a bit. Still, she felt cold.

He watched her husband nod and then turn to leave.

He was almost out the door when she called. "Andri?"

She waited for him to turn before she continued, "Be careful."

He gave her a dubious look, and it wasn't unexpected. He was only going to harvest flowers after all, but she had the unshakable feeling that something might happen to him.

His face softened, and he quickly closed the distance from door back to the bed. His strong arms drew her close, and she savored the feeling of security, the smell of him.

"I will be fine, Seraih."

TBC.

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A/N: Seraih is pronounced "sə'rī." Seraih and Andri belong to me.

Thoughts, crits, and comments are much appreciated. I'm exploring new territory with this story, so feedback helps. Thanks for reading. :)

**Journeyman07** is an awesome beta.


	2. Chapter 2

**TITLE: **Left Behind – Chapter 2  
**AUTHOR: **renisanz**  
**

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Seraih blinked against the hazy edges of sleep and shifted in the bed—not her bed. She inhaled deeply the strange smell of her foreign surroundings. She winced open her bleary eyes to take in the otherworldly glow of cool colors and a steady beeping that increased in pace as she shifted and tried to sit up. Her body refused to cooperate. She felt so weak. Seraih slumped back against the lumpy pillows and ran a hand over he sleepy eyes and through her mess of curls. She felt something tug against the back of her left hand. She brought her hand in front of her face and was startled to see a tube attached to what looked to be a needle that disappeared into her vein.

Her stomach recoiled at the sight, and she gulped down air to swallow back the bile that bubbled in the back of her throat. She took deep breaths as her vision became sharper, and the incessant beeping matched her racing heart.

This was not home. She needed to be back there with Andri. _Where was he?_ Why was she here and he not at her side?

Her wonderings were cut short at the sound of rustling fabric and the light clinking of metal. A pale blue curtain had been pulled back, and a petite young woman with long hair the color of fresh straw walked briskly to her bedside. She was a stranger, but her eyes were warm, friendly.

"Hello," the woman smiled. "I'm Dr. Keller How are you feeling?"

"Heavy," Seraih replied before she thought better of it.

"Well, consider that a good thing, since you're still pregnant." The woman looked up from the console she was reading, "we went through a lot of trouble to keep you that way. Do you feel any discomfort at all?"

Seraih shook her head and then lowered her chin to focus on the large swell of her belly. _Yes. She is still with me,_ she thought. Her child was not meant to be born for at least two lunar cycles. It would explain why she had awakened in this . . . facility, an apparent place for the infirm.

Dr. Keller nodded and then produced a cuff of black material with a gauge at the top. A thin tube was attached on one side and there was a elliptical ball at the end.

"Oh, I'm just going to take your blood pressure." At Seraih's obvious apprehension, she added, "Don't worry. It doesn't hurt at all. You'll just feel a bit of pressure around your arm. Okay?"

"Uh. . ._okay_," Seraih replied, using the strange expression of affirmation. She had meant that her mind felt weighed down, rather than her body. The weight of the life inside her was no burden at all. She drew strength from it's presence, and it kept her grounded, centered. Whenever she tried to reach back in her memory to the time before this moment, she felt something like a vice tightening around her thoughts, reigning them in.

It was very similar to the pressure she felt around her upper arm as Dr. Keller pumped air into the cuff. The woman was studying at the gauge, and seemed to be counting something, so Seraih waited until Dr. Keller began decompressing the cuff to ask.

"How did I come to be here?"

The woman looked at her with concern now. "You don't remember?"

Seraih let her eyes drift down to her hands and tried to recall how she got here. She remembered the cold sensation that knifed through her gut that morning (was it yesterday?) and Andri's reassuring words and parting embrace. She tried to move past those images, forward in time, and she felt an unusual dread, as if she were a child who had wandered too close to the edge of the _Risan Heights_ only to be snatched back and tugged away to a safe distance as her aunt shrieked admonishing words. She shook away the memory and then looked back to Dr. Keller's patient eyes. "No, I . . . I cannot," Seraih confessed. She was afraid now, and the beeping sound quickened.

"It's alright," the woman stepped closer and patted her hand. Her touch was reassuring and cool, and Seraih's eyes lit with realization.

"You are _Jennifer_ . . . the doctor," she exclaimed.

"Yeah . . . how did you know?" Jennifer looked at her with wonder and curiosity.

"Ronon," Seraih admitted, though, she debated how much she should reveal of the conversation. After a moment she said, "He has spoken of you before."

Seraih watched with interest as Jennifer's eyes widened, and her cheeks acquired the faint tint reminiscent of wild _nesra_. At the time, Seraih thought Ronon had been exaggerating with his description of the young doctor who had caught his eye.

Someone cleared their throat, and they both looked to the right.

Jennifer turned and walked away, disappearing on the other side of the curtain. "Ronon," Jennifer said with poorly masked enthusiasm. Jennifer must have noticed it too, for when she spoke again, her voice was lower, and more controlled.

Ronon mumbled something too low for her to hear, but Seraih grew excited at the familiar sound.

"Oh it's fine," Jennifer said, and Seraih imagined her waving her hand dismissively. "I was just checking her vitals. She's doing extremely well." There was a pause, and then Jennifer's voice lowered as well and she could no longer make out their conversation.

After a few moments, the Satedan emerged around the curtain, and Seraih felt a wave of relief wash over her entire body. The leather vest he wore was one she had completed for him near the end of last summer. He wore it well.

As he approached her bed however, she saw the worry in his green-brown eyes and the dark circles beneath them. He had not slept in many days. All was _not_ well.

"Where is Andri?" she demanded to know. Ronon would tell her the truth, reveal to her the fact that her treacherous mind held captive.

Ronon told her.

Andri was gone.

TBC.

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A/N: Thanks to **sezjara** for the beta.

Feedback is much appreciated. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**TITLE: **Left Behind – Chapter 3  
**AUTHOR: **renisanz**  
**

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After leaving Ronon alone with Seraih, Jennifer had retreated to the quiet of her office, sat down in her surprisingly comfortable desk chair, and buried her face in her hands. She sighed heavily before crossing her arms on her desk and plopping her head against them.

There was so much to think about, and she just wanted to sleep. She felt a fresh blush coming on as she thought of Seraih's last words. _He has spoken of you before_. Jennifer found herself shocked at the revelation. Her stunned mind failed to formulated a way to ask more without sounding like a lovesick schoolgirl. Then Ronon was there, and Jennifer had struggled to maintain a professional air as she briefed him on Seraih's condition, informing him of Seraih's lack of memory as to how she'd come to be in Atlantis.

Jennifer truly hoped that it was only a temporary side effect of the psychological stress Seraih had endured, the same stress that precipitated her going into premature labor a few days ago. Jennifer was deeply disturbed by what Ronon and Teyla had reported on what they had found on Seraih's homeworld. In any other case, she would consider it a mercy for one not to recall the horrors of a culling. However, so much more had occurred besides the culling, and it was important for them to determine what exactly had happened.

After Ronon brought Seraih to the infirmary, they had been able to stop Seraih's contractions. Jennifer shook her head as she remembered the near chaos that had ensued, when she tried to get Ronon to leave the treatment area. Seraih has basically freaked out, for lack of a more appropriate medical term, and Ronon hadn't been keen on leaving letting the girl out of his sight either.

"_You need to sedate her."_

"_What?" She knew Ronon meant well, but he was no doctor. She focused on administering an appropriate tocolytic when Ronon grabbed her arm, forcing her to look up at him._

_The conviction in Ronon's eyes held Jennifer in place. "If it's safe for the baby, you need to do it. Trust me."_

_It was the last word of entreaty that quashed whatever doubts Jennifer had about Ronon's uncharacteristic request. She told herself that she had not let her burgeoning feelings for him cloud her judgement, reasoned that, given the girl's obvious distress, it couldn't hurt to calm her as quickly as possible. However, it was Seraih's teary, frightened eyes that made the guided Jennifer to her ultimate resolve._

_She requested one of her staff to bring her a certain dosage of sedative._

Fortunately, her water had not broken, otherwise they would have had no choice but to delivery the baby. They seemed to be out of the woods, for now, though. Jennifer had been worried about how Seraih would react when she woke up in Atlantis, so she was very pleased if slightly unnerved at Seraih's calm responses. She really was an unassuming beauty, and Jennifer had been taken aback by her penetrating blue eyes.

Jennifer looked at when she heard a light rapping on her door.

"Dr. Keller?" came the cautious tone of Dr. Marc Pedersen.

Jennifer immediately straightened and smiled. It was not a good look for the CMO to seem passed out on her desk. "Hey, Marc, what's up? Uhm. . . you made any progress on the Wraith autopsy?"

"Some," he nodded, waving the laptop he held under his arm as he stepped into her office. "We can talk about it over dinner."

Jennifer shot him a look full of incredulity.

"I mean at dinner, in the cafeteria, with other people. . . " he explained.

Jennifer blinked.

"With Teyla. She's waiting for you there, actually. She asked if I'd fetch you. She's still hesitant to come near the infirmary," he finished, stopping a short distance in front of her desk as he waited for her response.

Finally Jennifer nodded. _Awkward_. She hoped her resultant blush wasn't sending the wrong signal. It was late, and she need to eat. Marc as pretty good company, and her interactions with Teyla had been scarce over the last few days.

"Alright," she sighed, pushing up from her desk.

. . . . .

There was a slim crowd in the mess hall at this time of evening, just after the dinner rush. After exiting the line with a tray of Pegasus-style spaghetti, Jennifer followed Marc as he led her to a table out on the balcony where Teyla and Colonel Sheppard were already seated.

Jennifer slid into a seat across from Teyla, and Marc took the seat to Jennifer's left.

After they all exchanged greetings, Teyla asked, "How is Seraih?"

"She's good," Jennifer sighed. "She's awake."

"Oh?" Teyla looked uncertain and then glanced at John.

"I thought you were supposed to let me know when she woke up?" He said.

"I'm letting you know now, Colonel," Jennifer replied cooly. She hadn't meant to come off challenging, but something about Joh's tone rubbed her the wrong way. "No offense, but she's been through a lot. Though I understand your need for information on what happened to her world, as her doctor, I didn't think it was a good idea to bombard her with strangers right away. Ronon's with her now," she added. Jennifer also recalled the promise she had made to Ronon that she would be personally responsible for Seraih's medical care. At the time, it was the only way she could get him to leave the infirmary.

They had been able to stabilize Seraih's condition fairly quickly, but after the sedatives wore off, she continued to sleep. Jennifer had calmly explained to Ronon that there was nothing more they could do for her. All the tests showed that Seraih was healthy, and the baby wasn't in any distress, so all they could do was wait and see.

Jennifer had never seen Ronon so . . . protective. He refused to leave the young woman's bedside. At one point, Jennifer threatened to sedate him and have him fed intravenously (she would have laughed at the dubious expression he gave at that, if she wasn't so serious), until he finally gave in took a few meals, always in the infirmary. Still, Jennifer knew that this arrangement could not go on forever. His constant presence unsettled her staff so much so that Jennifer always had to be present when any of them had a hand in Seraih's care. She was extremely relieved when Seraih's vital monitors indicated that she was regaining consciousness.

John nodded an understanding at Jennifer's explanation, then asked, "Has she said anything?"

"Not much," Jennifer admitted. "I mean, she was pretty mellow, considering. But she said she doesn't remember how she got here, on Atlantis."

"It's possible that's a side effect of her psychological trauma, no?" Dr. Pedersen piped in around a mouthful of spaghetti.

"Yes, that's what I suspected," Jennifer agreed. "Speaking of which," she turned to Teyla, "How's your headache?" She was shocked at the amount of pain killer the Athosian had requested on their last encounter, as Teyla was not given to readily admit to pain, no matter how extreme. During her time as CMO, Jennifer had come to know just how difficult it was to always give the appearance of unwavering strength in the face of adversity.

"The pain has," Teyla considered a moment, "lessened a great deal with the help of the pain killers."

"Oh," Jennifer winced, "still not better?"

"It is subsiding, slowly," Teyla admitted. "I have never experienced anything quite so intense, not even after encountering the mind of a Wraith queen."

"Well, that's . . . scary," John replied, his brow furrowed with concern.

"Oh, that reminds me," Dr. Pedersen said, waving his fork for attention. His eyes almond eyes wide with excitement. "The Wraith autopsy. . ."

"Oh right," Jennifer remembered. "You said you found something interesting."

"We are at dinner you know . . ." John reminded him, doing his best job to look squeamish.

"Right," Mark smirked. "It's nothing too gross, don't worry."

"Great," Sheppard quipped, not at all relieved.

"Alright," Marc wiped his mouth with his napkin and discarded it onto his empty tray. Jennifer wondered where he'd put it all. She hadn't really noticed him eating, and her food remained relatively untouched. He rubbed his hands together in preparation for the explanation, and Jennifer allowed himself to smile at the unabashed enthusiasm. "Remember a few years back, when you guys uncovered a nanovirus in one of the Ancient labs that caused the infected subject to hallucinate, go crazy and die from a brain hemorrhage?"

He glanced at each person around the table to make sure they were following.

"Are you saying that's what killed the all those Wraith we found on the planet?" Col. Sheppard gestured with his mug.

"No. Well, sort of." At Sheppard's look of annoyance, Marc explained further. "I'm appears that they died of a brain hemorrhage, but it wasn't a nanovirus that caused it."

"So what are you saying," Teyla prodded.

"Well, after what you told me about your initial encounter with Seraih in the planet, and her apparent _abilities_, with Dr. Keller's permission, I took some neurological readings," he produced the lap top he had brought with him and began typing in commands, "and I discovered quite a few anomalies in both her brain structure and it's activity. So, I compared the data with some of the readings from when you," he made eye contact with Teyla, "were being monitored the first time you tried to connect with a Wraith mind. . ."

"They were similar," Jennifer stated. All of the pieces were coming together now, and she found her heart racing at the weight of the implications.

"Mmm," Marc nodded while taking a gulp from his water bottle. "Not just similar. Seraih's brain activity was a lot more extensive than Teyla's." He held up the screen for Jennifer to see. She looked at the two brain scans. On the left was Teyla, on the right Seraih's. The areas in Teyla's brain responsible for her telepathic abilites were colored in red. On Seraih's brain, the same areas were colored, but they red covered a more extensive area.

"Oh my God," Jennifer gasped. That explained why Ronon had been so adamant for her to sedate Seraih. Somehow he already knew.

"What does this mean?" Teyla leaned forward, urging them for further explanation.

"Are you saying . . . she killed them with her _brain_?" John questioned with a furrowed brow, the disbelief evident in his voice.

"She killed them with her brain," Marc confirmed.

TBC.

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A/N: I hope I did alright on the medical jargon. I decided to bring Dr. Marc Pcdersen over from my stories "Making Up the Past" and "Back Home," because he has so much untapped potential. ;) I actually kind of like that Ronon and Jen haven't had much interaction so far. Builds tension I think.

Feedback is much appreciated. :)


	4. Chapter 4

**TITLE: **Left Behind – Chapter 4  
**AUTHOR: **renisanz**  
**

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An overbearing silence hovered like an invisible mist over the empty streets. An all too familiar sense of dread coiled in Ronon's chest, around his heart. Teyla had assured him that the Wraith were gone, but there was still the strange presence that she had felt. They had found no survivors so far, which heightened Ronon's sense of urgency.

It was unusual for the Wraith to completely decimate a world that didn't pose an immediate threat or resistance. The inhabitants of Mira were more advanced than the Athosians, but not quite so much as Sateda. Though far from an ideal civilization, Mira was peaceful.

If she was still here, he would find her. He had promised.

He rounded the corner and emerged onto the street that led to Seraih's shop. Ronon was supposed to meet her there originally, so he figured that would be the logical place to start looking. There had been no forewarning of the impending culling. There would have been no time for her to flee into the cover of the forest. Despite her youth, Seraih would not have made it far in her condition.

Ronon remembered the day Seraih had told him of the secret bunker that had been dug underneath the shop. It was meant specifically as a place of refuge from cullings. Ronon's instincts had made him ask her to show him. Seraih led him to a corner of the room and indicated a spot on the floor covered by a large chest. It took him great effort to move it out of the way to reveal a barely visible trap door. A large rectangle of dust covered the perimeter of the area where the chest had been as it had not been moved in many years.

This neglect was dangerous, and he told Seraih so. Still the entrance to the bunker was well hidden. The handle to open the hatch was expertly hidden in the floor planks. After Seraih opened the door with a few expert turns of the latch, Ronon saw that the planks were staggered around the edges of dthe hatch to better blend into the floor pattern. _This was good._

He let his eyes pass over the overturned vendor carts, trampled produce and flowers. Ronon had seen the aftermath of many cullings, but the scene before him rang of a more specific incident—how they had found the settlement on New Athos. He expected Teyla to notice it too, but when he turned to gauge her reaction, he discovered that she was no longer beside him.

Ronon turned around fully to see if she had darted into one of the buildings. He was surprised to see her several yards behind him, her hand resting heavily against the dark brick wall. Her head was down, but he could see her brow furrowed in concentration. . . pain.

"What is it?" he asked once at her side.

He watched as Teyla inhaled a short breath. She lifted her head to face him, but it was a moment more before her eyes opened. "The presence I felt. . ." she began.

"It's here?" Ronon urged, his fingers tightening around the handle of his gun.

Teyla nodded.

Ronon spun around, quickly surveying the street. They still appeared to be alone. He turned back to Teyla when he felt her hand clamp tightly around his forearm.

"I do not believe we are in danger," she explained.

At Ronon's look of incredulity she went on, "I think. . ." Teyla squeezed her eyes shut and fell back against the wall. She was definitely in pain. "She is in great distress."

"_Who's_ in distress?" Ronon had little time to process the meaning of the Athosians words next words his eyes fell upon the blood as it trickled from Teyla's nose.

_Seraih._

It had been her all along, and she had nearly killed Teyla, Ronon realized.

Once they were were all safely back on Atlantis, Jennifer had been able to stabilize Seraih's condition, as he had hoped the doctor would be. In the back of his mind he knew that Carter would give him hell about breaking security protocols by bringing a strange girl onto the base without prior clearance, but that was of little consequence. Ronon also knew that this wouldn't stop them from helping her, if they could.

The strange young girl with the eyes the clear blue of a summer sky who he had met in an alley those few years ago had changed so much since then. She had become a wife, was becoming a mother.

Now a widow.

Ronon knew that she want to know the fate of her husband once she was awake. He couldn't hide it from her. He had never been able to hide anything from her—he didn't ever want to. Still, Ronon couldn't make his voice work to utter what had happened to Andri.

"Andri is gone," Ronon wished she's understand from those few words. But as he watched her brow crinkle in disbelief, heard the sharp intake of breath and felt the city tilt beneath his booted feet as she rested both hands protectively over the life inside her belly, he knew it wasn't enough.

It was the stillness in her eyes that undid him. Ronon looked to the floor as he dug his right hand into the pocket of his hands, fingers grazing and enclosing around the beaded object concealed within the folds.

She didn't say anything at first, only reached out, her slim fingers wrapping delicately around the thin, leather chord that held Andri's bonding pendant.

Ronon released his grip as Seraih pulled it from his hand, the cord tickling across his calloused fingers as she drew it across them and out of his grasp. He kept his eyes on Seraih's face, her eyes, though she wasn't looking at him now.

"He's . . ." she whispered, her voice thick with the tears that would soon come. "I don't. . ." she closed her eyes and the tears fell.

He took in the wetness on her dark lashes, the hint of color in her rising in her freckled cheeks as she fought the sea of emotions that had drowned so many. Ronon knew this pain; she was feeling it for the first time. He wished he could say something to make lessen the sting of emptiness, but nothing ever really did. So he said nothing.

He watched as Seraih raked her hands through the dark waves of her hair, a little longer than their first meeting, but still relatively short. Still wild and lovely.

"What happened to my world?"

. . . . . . . . . .

A/N: A very difficult chapter to write. Seriously. Thanks to **sezjara** for helping this story flow better.

Feedback is much appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

**TITLE: **Left Behind – Chapter 5  
**AUTHOR: **renisanz**  
**

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"She killed them with her brain."

Under any other circumstances Dr. Jennifer Keller would have laughed. That was crazy talk. Then she quickly sobered as she reminded herself that Dr. Marc Pedersen was, in fact, serious as she had the test results in front of her to corroborate her colleagues findings, but. . .

"Are you certain of this?" Teyla's usually calm voice was tinged with doubt.

Jennifer looked up from the computer screen and at Marc's profile as he nodded. "Yes," he said. "I mean, I'd like to do some more tests but the preliminary results indicate that this young woman, Seraih, possesses some," he reached for the tablet and Jennifer handed it to him, "impressive mental abilities."

"To say the least," said Col. Sheppard.

Jennifer finally found her voice. "Alright, let's not jump to conclusions about what this could mean," she said. She looked from Teyla to Sheppard, and willed herself not to look at Marc, as she could feel his disbelieving expression burning a hole in the side of her face.

Sheppard nodded, his jaw tense, "So, what's the plan then?"

Jennifer sighed. "Well, we need to brief Col. Carter on this new information, but," she finally turned to Marc, "We need to conduct further tests to find out the extent of her abilities." Jennifer had her suspicions about a few things, but she chose not to express them just yet.

"You don't think she's a danger to anyone?" Sheppard prodded, sparing a glance at Teyla.

"Well, no. The information we have so far is that Teyla was the only one affected by Seraih's," Jennifer paused, trying to think of a better word to use to describe Seraih's abilities, but settled on "powers. And even then it may have been an instinctual reaction to the shock of what what was happening on her planet."

"So, you're saying these 'powers' are unpredictable."

"No," Jennifer met John's measuring gaze. "I'm saying that I don't believe she's dangerous, but we need to do more tests to figure that out for sure, and know exactly what we're dealing with. We have to remember that she's a victim in all of this. Ronon wouldn't have brought here if he thought she would be a threat to us."

"I agree, Colonel," Teyla spoke up. "When Ronon and I finally found Seraih, she was in a great deal of distress. However, once she realized who we were, whatever she was doing with her mind seemed to cease."

Teyla's statement seemed to satisfy the Colonel, for the moment. Jennifer hoped she was right.

"I need to get back to the infirmary," Jennifer stated, as she got up from the table, away from her untouched tray of food.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

". . . and you found no one alive?"

"No." _A vision of pleading, intense brown eyes staring out of a face withered beyond recognition—almost._

"But. . . how can you be certain? It is possible they escaped through the Ancestral Ring," Seraih looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. He had hoped the same thing, however, the evidence suggested otherwise. The disarray they had found in the town told that the Wraith had taken the inhabitants of Mira by surprise.

"You were the only person we found," Ronon admitted. _The only person we found alive_. It was the grim truth. Before Seraih could ask more, he supplied. "We had out people go back to the planet, to search for survivors. We didn't find anyone."

"They may have escaped and have yet to come back," Seraih told him. "Someone could have. . ." she choked, wiping the fresh tears away as they spilled onto her flushed cheeks.

She was growing more agitated, and Ronon figured he should tell her something to give her hope. He stepped closer to her bed, and the movement caught her attention. "I once thought all my people were gone. When I first came here, to Atlantis, they sent this machine to my homeworld to see what had happened to it, if maybe I could go back home . . . It was destroyed."

"By the Wraith," she whispered.

"Yeah. Because we fought back," Ronon stated gruffly. His throat still tightened at the memory. "Anyway, a little while later, I found out there were about 300 survivors from Sateda, living on other worlds."

"You believe that people from my world have done the same."

Ronon shrugged, choosing not to tell her what his gut said. "It's only been a few days."

"They might yet return," Seraih said the words as if she was not absolutely sure of it herself. Still there was a glimmer of hope in her voice at the prospect.

Ronon watched as Seraih looked down at her hands. Her slim fingers toyed with the cords of the pendant that had belonged to her husband. The fingers of her right hand found the small knot that was tied on that side of the pendant, rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. She stopped the motion suddenly, and closed her hand around the pendant. "Others may have fled to the safety of other worlds, yes. That is a possibility," she said, her voice thick with tears yet to come. "But Andri is gone. He is not coming back."

_No_, Ronon answered silently. The Wraith who had fed upon the young man had made sure of that.

Seraih inhaled deeply and then released a ragged breath. She wiped at her now running nose with the back of her hand, and Ronon remembered the box of _Kleenex_ on the stand next to her hospital bed. He pulled one out of the box and offered it to Seraih. She looked up at him in confusion, and Ronon made a gesture to show it was to wipe her nose and eyes.

He was surprised when she let out a wet, rueful laugh before accepting the tissue. "Thank you," she said quietly, dabbing the tissue against her nose.

"How long must I stay here?"

Ronon was startled by the abrupt change of subject. He didn't know whether Seraih meant how long she would be on the infirmary, or in Atlantis as a whole. He chose to answer the former.

"Doc said for a few days at least, make sure everything's ok with your baby." Ronon inclined his head slightly, indicating the life that persevered in Seraih's belly, visible even under the layers of sheets and a blanket. He might have gone overboard with wanting her to be as comfortable as possible while she slept.

Seraih accepted this. "Did you, uh," she ran a hand through her hair, looked away and then met his eyes once more. "Did you inter the ones that fell to the Wraith?"

"Yeah. We buried them." Ronon thought she would have asked more about Andri, but he decided it was better to just answer her as she asked.

"How many in all?"

"Eight."

"That is all?"

"Yeah," Ronon confirmed. He had thought that strange as well. There were hundreds of people just in the township where Seraih made her home.

"When I am well enough," Seraih continued, "I would like to visit their place of rest." Seraih yawned and relaxed against her pillows. She didn't seem to mind as exhaustion overtook her. Ronon watched her as her breathing became slower and deeper, her eyes falling closed. When he was sure she was almost asleep, she suddenly cracked her eyes open. "Ronon?"

"Yeah," he said, suddenly alert. Seraih reached out, her hand finding his and pulling it to rest against the swell of her abdomen.

The fond smile tickled the corners of his mouth as he watched Seraih stifle another yawn. Despite everything, she appeared to be at peace for the moment. "Thank you for saving her."

"Her?"

He leaned forward studying Seraih's face. "Our baby. It's a girl," she sighed, smiling as she drifted off to sleep.

Ronon's heart warmed as he remembered the day many months ago, when Seraih had barely contained the news of her pregnancy. He had suspected as much from the moment her saw her. She wasn't far along, but the changes in her body that had already taken place were apparent to a discerning eye. Still, he acted dutifully surprised at the news. Andri had been a good husband to her, and Ronon was confident he would have been an loving father.

Ronon's hand was still firmly enclosed in her fingers. He was about to pull away, but then hesitated. Bending down, her reached and brushed one of the longer curls of Seraih's dark hair away from her forehead, placing his lips against her cool skin.

When he straightened, he was startled to see Jennifer standing in the small opening of the privacy curtain. A blush was steadily spreading across her cheeks, tinting even the tips of her ears. Her hazel eyes were wide, her body tense, and he noticed she held the tablet against her with a white-knuckled grip.

She was very upset.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Jennifer stood was frozen in place as Ronon lifted his head up from placing a kiss on Seraih's forehead. She barely heard Ronon's voice over the roaring or blood in her ears, the words "our baby" replaying in her head.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I said, is everything ok?" he repeated in a low voice, stepping around Seraih's bed and walking to stand in front of Jennifer where she was rooted in place.

Jennifer blinked, shaking her head. "No, no, everything's fine," she responded, her voice too high for her liking.

"You look. . .upset."

"What?" Jennifer tried reign in her racing thoughts, as she tried to process the words Ronon was saying to her.

"Is everything going to be ok with Seraih? her baby?

_Oh, he thought . . ._

"Oh, no. I mean, yes. She's fine. They're both doing well," Jennifer assured him, relieved to have her attention on something else for the moment. "She's sleeping now. That's good. I wanted to see how she felt about having an ultrasound done in the morning. Thought it might give her a boost to see the baby moving around and all," she said, glancing around Ronon to Seraih's sleeping form.

Ronon nodded. "Yeah. She'd like that."

"Yeah," sighed, unable to stand the smile Ronon got at her suggestion. "I thought she might," she whispered.

"Hey," Ronon stepped closer to her, and Jennifer was forced to look up into his searingly handsome face. "Are you feeling, ok?" he asked, raising his hand to brush a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

But Jennifer leaned away from his touch, and immediately regretted it when she saw the look of confusion in his eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm just . . . tired," Jennifer said. It wasn't a lie. Her shift had ended over an hour ago. Still, she had come back to the infirmary with the intention of talking to Ronon about what had happened on Mira as well as going over what the tests Dr. Pedersen ran had revealed. She was starving, too. She hadn't been able to eat any of her dinner since her stomach had been in knots once Marc had revealed his findings. Now she could no longer concentrate on anything but getting out of the infirmary and to the refuge of her quarters.

Ronon seemed to accept her answer, though. "Ok," he nodded. "You should get some sleep."

"Yeah. I just came back to check on Seraih, and now I'm going to bed."

"I'll walk you." Ronon stated.

"No," she said a little too quickly. She knew he had not meant it as an offer, but she declined it as such. "I mean, you should probably stay with her, ya know, in case she wakes up again."

"I think she'll be ok now," Ronon said. "It won't take long."

"I know," Jennifer said, already stepping away from him. "I really think you should stay." She really did.

Ronon stared at her for a moment and then sighed.

Jennifer sighed as well, relieved he was no longer pressing the issue. Ronon still stared at her, though. His face was barely readable, except his expression was one she had come to recognize to mean he was trying to decide something. Decision made, he held her gaze in his intense hazel eyes as he slowly leaned his face down to hers. Basking in the heat of him, Jennifer cursed her weakness as she found herself unable to move away from him this time. Ronon's nose caressed hers, and he paused briefly, as if expecting her to back away. Instinctively, Jennifer tipped her chin upwards and their lips met in a tender kiss. She hated the intoxicating effect of his touch, even as she leaned into the embrace. The forgotten computer tablet nearly slipped from her fingers, her limbs suddenly weak.

"Thank you." Jennifer's eyes fluttered open at Ronon's voice.

"For what?" she croaked.

"For taking care of her. I knew you would. Thank you."

Jennifer couldn't help but smile, even as tears stung the corners of her eyes. "You're welcome," she managed to say, with as much sincerity as she could muster. "Goodnight." She turned away from him and walked away, just as the first tear fell.

TBC.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

A/N: I know you guys are tired of me babbling on about how hard and difficult the chapter was to write. Well, not so much with this one, though I did stress over it a bit. I hope all the explanations that have been given so far work for you.

Thanks to **journeyman07** (back from her vacation) and **bailey1ak** for the beta.

Feedback is so very much appreciated. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**NOTES: **The role of Dr. Marc Pedersen will be played from now on by Joseph Gordon-Levitt. This chapter was fun to write. There are a lot of things going on at once, so it was interesting trying to make everything fit together. I hope it works.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

At 0500 her alarm clock wailed.

Jennifer groaned.

Shifting under the mountain of covers underneath which she had buried herself the night before, she wondered how she could have been so naïve. So _stupid_. She didn't exactly feel used. . . _Well_, she reconsidered. _Yeah_, she actually did feel quite used, and betrayed. _Embarrassed_. There was an ever growing list of adjectives to describe the emotions she felt after fleeing from the infirmary the night before.

She wiggled an arm out and reached over to the the alarm clock, switching it off.

Jennifer was positive she hadn't misread his signals. He had _kissed_ her, for goodness sake. You couldn't really mistake one's intentions from that. _Could she?_ However, a kiss, no matter how searing or earth shattering, was not a promise of commitment or monogamy. It hurt to admit, but she had made a lot of assumptions based on little fact, following her heart rather than her head. She knew very little about Satedan culture. When she'd walked in on Ronon and Seraih, he hadn't acted like anything was wrong. She had been the one about to crack in two the tablet in her hands, too shocked and confused to say anything at first.

And then Ronon had asked her if everything was alright. He sensed that Jennifer was upset, and she had lied in a weak attempt to avoid reacting like a jilted schoolgirl. Not wanting to admit that she had been wrong.

Jennifer groaned as she rolled from her stomach onto her side, ignoring the twinge in her ab muscles, evidence of her weakness. Her bleary eyes watched the digital numbers turn from 0503 to 0504, watched another few minutes of her life wasted sulking. Over him.

Ronon Dex. His name on her lips caused fresh tears to well up. She really needed to get a grip. There was work to do, cures to find and lives to save. That person laying on the operating table might be a little worried if the one responsible for their life couldn't hold it together under pressure because of some lover's spat.

She realized there were people around who would laughed at the fortune of her lot in comparison. Teyla's people were still missing, and Seraih's world had been culled. The pregnant young woman—Jennifer's patient—was in the infirmary, alone, for the most part, and Jennifer was still laying in bed crying over what could amount to a simple cultural misunderstanding.

Jennifer smirked at the thought and wiped her eyes. Her heart didn't hurt much less, but the thought definitely put things in perspective. She glanced at the clock once more—0510—and threw back the mound of covers.

. . . . . . . . . .

Dr. Marc Pedersen caught a glimpse of the familiar blonde ponytail as its owner disappeared into the entrance of the mess hall. Dr. Keller sure was up early. He glanced at his watch: 0530. _Wow, really early_, he thought.

He had woken up only a few minutes before, his face planted on the desk in the biology lab. He fell asleep in front of his laptop after a late night going over the results from the Wraith autopsy. Not exactly what one would call light reading. Definitely disturbing as well as enlightening.

Marc hesitated a few steps before reaching the mess. He hadn't showered since. . .yesterday. . . _morning_? His body screamed for caffeine in excessive doses, but another part of him said that it might be best to show his CMO that he possessed a modicum of consideration for personal hygiene before approaching her at breakfast. He didn't kid himself into believing that the fact that his CMO was young, female, and quite attractive, with a sharp sense of humor had no bearing on his decision as he turned away, walking in the direction of his quarters.

Shower first.

. . . . . . . . . .

Seraih had been up for the last hour, awakened by an exceedingly uncomfortable pressure on her bladder. The lights were dimmed and Ronon was nowhere in sight, but for the first time, she was relieved to be alone. She looked around her bed and found the device Ronon told her was used to summoned a nurse. A few minutes later a slight, dark-haired woman appeared —Marie—and helped Seraih out of the bed. Her legs felt wobbly at first, and the floor was chilly beneath her bare feet, but she insisted on walking. After a moment of consideration, the nurse obliged, but she wrapped her arm around Seraih's waist to help keep her steady.

After attending to her personal needs, she took the opportunity to study her appearance in the mirror, her usually unruly curls hung limp at her and her skin looked—and felt—icky. Given, she had been laying in bed unconscious for three of the past four days. The need to cleanse herself was desperate.

When Seraih expressed to Marie the desire to wash, the woman nodded, a sympathetic look crossing her features. She instructed Seraih to wait while she went away to retrieve the needed materials.

. . . . . . . . . .

Ronon thought he caught a glimpse of Jennifer as she rounded the corner, but he was already on his way to the infirmary, and he figured he'd see her there eventually. Right now, he wanted to check in on Seraih. As he entered the infirmary, the sound of Jennifer's delighted laugh pricked his ears and he wondered what, or who, could be the cause of it.

He arrived at in the secluded ward at Seraih's bed, only to find her gone. The covers were drawn back, and the bed left unmade. Had she been moved somewhere else? Ronon figured Jennifer would have told him if they did. He walked around the ward, seeing only more empty.

"Hey," he called to a young nurse who seemed to be trying to avoid him.

"Yes," she looked up at him, clutching the medical chart to her chest.

"Where's Seraih?"

"I'm sorry. Who?"

Ronon rolled his eyes and barely suppressed the urge to grown at the woman. Jennifer had warned him about "terrorizing her staff."

"Ronon," he whirled around to face Marie.

She was holding an armful of supplies. Soap and shampoo, and that fluffy sponge thing.

"She's fine," Marie said, and he relaxed at the news.

"Where is she?"

"She wanted a bath, so. . ."

"Oh," Ronon grunted, feeling foolish. _Girl stuff_. He should have thought of that.

. . . . . . . . . .

"I don't understand these markings," Seraih said as she picked up the small, pale green, cylindrical container. She ran her hand over the smooth surface, intrigued by the neat combination of lines and curves that was the 'Lantean written language.

"Oh," Marie pointed at the bottle in Seraih's hand. "This is conditioner." She pointed to another, very similar, pale red one on the counter beside the sink. "This one is shampoo. To wash your hair. Rinse out the shampoo, and then apply the conditioner, leave it on your hair for a few minutes, then rinse it out. It'll bring out those lovely curls," she explained.

Seraih blushed.

Marie smiled. Reaching for the larger bottle, she held it up and explained, "This one is body wash. Basically soap. Just squeeze a bit onto the sponge." Marie gestured toward the pink ball of meshy material. "It lathers up nicely."

"Ah," Seraih nodded in understanding. She had guessed the sponge correctly, but she hadn't been sure. Atlantis was different than any place she had ever been, so it was not guaranteed that utensils for hygiene would be the same as those on other worlds. Set gently set the _conditioner_ on the counter and turned to Marie.

"Ok, ready?" Marie asked.

"Ready," Seraih affirmed with a shy smile. She then allowed the nurse to help her remove her gown.

. . . . . . . . . .

Marc nearly spilled his cup of coffee as Jennifer slammed into his chest. She had been looking back while rounding the corner, and he hadn't been paying attention because Sergeant Mehra and Captain Vega had just jogged past, on their usual morning run.

"Ah sh—crap!" he hissed as a few drops of the hot liquid sloshed over the edge of the mug, onto his hand.

Jennifer stumbled but reach out and grabbed Marc's arm, steadying both him and herself. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she said in a rush. She looked behind her and then turned back to him.

"What's with the averted curse?" Jennifer asked. Marc felt her watching him intently as he fished a few napkins of of his lab coat pocket and bend down to wipe up the spilled coffee from the floor.

"Oh, that?" Marc ran a hand through his damp, shaggy hair, thought he might need a haircut soon, as he considered telling her. "Uhm. . .my mom raised me not to cuss in front of ladies," he confessed.

Jennifer blinked at him for a moment, and he noticed the faintest hint of a blush. "Oh my. You're serious, aren't you?" She regarded him with thinly veiled amusement. She took the mug from him and he wiped his scalded hand.

Marc was sure it sounded like a line to her, but he admitted, "Yeah. I was brought up sort of old-fashioned about certain things. I guess it stuck, despite my best efforts to use science to rid myself of her brainwashing."

Jennifer chuckled at that as she returned the mug to him. Her fingers barely brushed his. "Well, it's not completely useless. I'm sure it gets you lots of girls."

Marc looked wistful, remembering all the times a girl had told him how he was a nice, "sweet" guy, but. . . "Not as much as one would think." He couldn't see Jennifer being one of _those_ girls, but he'd been wrong before.

Jennifer fell in step beside him as he walked towards the biology lab. He turned to her and whispered, "Just be glad I didn't call you 'Ma'am.'"

Jennifer's laughter echoed down the corridor.

. . . . . . . . . .

A/N: Feedback is much appreciated. :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **Left Behind – Ch.7**  
Author: **renisanz

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

"So, find anything interesting?" Jennifer said as she slid into the stool next to Marc, glancing at the information on the laptop in front of him on the desk. She hoped Marc wouldn't wonder why she had accompanied him to the lab in the first place. She could have easily radioed him for an update on his progress.

"Yeah, some," he replied and then took a sip from his mug. "Waiting for the analysis to finish running on Seraih's DNA," he explained, setting the mug down next to the laptop. "I need to run more tests and record Seraih's normal, waking brain activity for comparison to the readings that were taken when she was in distress."

Jennifer nodded. "You two haven't been formally introduced, yet, have you?"

"Uh, no, I guess not."

"Well, I have a patient that needs seeing to," Jennifer said, referring to Seraih. "She's in a very fragile state right now. I mean, who wouldn't be? But, I think it'll be better if she gets familiar with before you start picking her brain."

"Yes, I see how that could be a bit awkward," Marc agreed with a smirk that was unexpectedly endearing. "And I'm pretty sure I don't want to invoke the 'wrath of the Satedan' either. He's been pretty protective of her. Don't really blame him," he said as an afterthought.

"Why's that?" Jennifer found herself asking him before she could think better of it.

She didn't miss Marc's eyes as they darted warily from the computer screen to her face and back.

"Well, she's . . ." he cleared his throat as his eyes darted to Jennifer's face once more, "in a really fragile state right now."

She got the feeling that wasn't originally how Marc had planned to finish the sentence, but she let it slide.

The computer beeped, signaling that the preliminary analysis was complete.

They both stared at the results for a few seconds allowing their minds to process what they were seeing.

Marc turned to Jennifer. "Well, does that count as _interesting_?"

Jennifer blinked. "Try _weird_," she mumbled.

. . . . . . . . . .

He heard her approach with tentative yet graceful footsteps long before the rustling of the curtain signaled her presence. Slowly, Ronon rolled his head in the direction of the sound, opening his eyes to see Teyla standing a few feet away.

"Hey," he greeted, swinging his booted feet down from where they had been propped on the footrest of Seraih's bed. "How's your head," he asked, as she came to stand beside the bed.

Teyla looked distractedly the disheveled sheets, ran her hand over the fabric to smooth down some of the folds. "Better," she gave a wan smile. "Where . . ?"

"In the bathroom with Marie. Girl stuff," he explained.

"Ah. I'm sure it will work to lift her spirits."

Ronon simply nodded. Seraih had been suffered much already. He didn't know anything more he could do to make the pain less.

"How are you?" Teyla's voice broke into his thoughts.

Ronon sighed, leaned forward and rested his elbows against his knees, clasped hands together and cracked his knuckles. Honestly, he felt tired. He turned his face to Teyla, "I'm good."

"There was nothing you could have done. . . for any of them."

Teyla's words sounded right, but they came just short of sinking in. It was assumed one would get used to the loss, after experiencing so much over time.

It never got easier.

He had vowed not to leave the galaxy until every last Wraith was dead. Now, a few years later and closer to the goal than he ever imagined possible, he wondered if it would be enough.

So lost in thought was he that Teyla's cool hand on his forearm nearly startled him. Almost. "You saved her, Ronon," she told him in a low and sure voice.

She was right. Teyla was the only other person who could relate to an existence plagued by loss, even more so now that her people were missing. John knew of loneliness and isolation, but his separation from his family was by choice. McKay's situation was similar. However, Ronon still couldn't understand why Rodney would go years without speaking to his sister—his only family—because she choose to have a family over a life of. . .science? In that case he figure it was just McKay being weird rather than it being an 'Lantean thing.

"She returns," Teyla said.

Ronon turned, following Teyla's gaze. He saw Seraih and Marie coming towards them, and he stood up, not quite sure what to do. Seraih did look better, though. Her hair was damp, but it looked shinier; he could tell it had been washed. But there was a ruddiness to her olive complexion now, not the sickly paleness that had been there before. She looked refreshed. Dressed in a set of white scrubs one could mistake her for one of the 'Lanteans, except the way she looked around in wonder at everything she passed gave away the fact that she wasn't one of them.

"Ronon." Seraih smiled brightly upon seeing the Satedan.

"Hey," Ronon smiled in turn. She did look to be in better spirits.

Seraih turned her gaze to Ronon's left. "Teyla Emmagan," her smile faltered. She furrowed her brow and inclined her head. She sensed something. "What is wrong?"

"Ronon has not told you?"

"He told me of what happened on my world," Seraih said, but he already he saw that her mind was working, trying to find what was lacking. "There is more," she stated, her eyes traveling from Teyla to Ronon in search of confirmation.

Ronon could feel the tension growing, and he glanced at Teyla, seeing the look he knew was on her face.

"Let's get you back in bed," Marie broke in. She had been standing next to Seraih, still supporting her as the conversation took place.

For a moment Seraih looked as though she was about to protest, but then she nodded and maneuvered herself into the bed. Marie helped her pull the covers over Seraih and showed her gave her brief instructions on how to use the bed controls. Ronon barely heard the Head Nurse say something about going to fetch Seraih's breakfast, and then she was off to take care of her other tasks.

Seraih nodded and then sat quiet for a few seconds. Suddenly she turned to Teyla with uncertainty and confusion written plainly on her face. "Why are you afraid of me?"

. . . . . . . . . .

Jennifer's sneakers screeched against the tile of the floor as she entered, halting at Seraih's words.

"Uh. . .hi." She said to no one in particular. "Is. . .this a . . .bad time?" Jennifer looked warily among the three Pegasus natives.

"No," Ronon responded finally, giving Jennifer a slight smile.

"Ok," she'd take him at his word. She focused on Seraih, who looked rather conflicted at the moment. "Why do you think that we're afraid of you?"

"Not you. I just . . . I _feel _that Teyla is, and I do not know why," Seraih said, her eyes conveying the hurt she felt at the thought.

_Oh._ Could her mental abilities be manifesting themselves now?

"Hey, could you guys, uhm, just pause this conversation for one second?" Jennifer asked. "I'll be _right_ back." Ronon shrugged and Teyla inclined her head, and at that, Jennifer exited.

Two minutes later, she returned. Jennifer walked up to Seraih's bedside and then said in as neutral a voice as she could manage, "I'm going to give you a shot of medicine to help calm you, ok?"

She watched Seraih look from Ronon, who nodded at the young woman and then pulled an alcohol wipe packet from her pocket. Seraih's IV has been removed the night before, so Jennifer swapped her the vein-rich area on her forearm, and then produced a syringe. "It's better if you don't look," Jennifer advised, and Seraih squeezed her eyes shut. "You'll just feel a slight prick, so just relax." Jennifer gave a reassuring smile.

Seraih did so, and Jennifer was distracted for a moment when she saw Ronon slide his fingers around Seraih's hand as it laid on the opposite side of the bed. "This might make you feel a little lethargic," Jennifer advised as she inserted the needle her arm.

"Seraih," Teyla soothed, "It is not fear, exactly," the Athosian sighed. She looked at Jennifer and then Ronon, possibly looking for any indication that she should not continue with the forthcoming explanation. Neither one gave any objection. The doctor in Jennifer urged her to administer a mild sedative as a precaution against Seraih's powers flaring up as they had on Mira during the apparent Wraith attack. Her lack of awareness that she even possessed such abilities gave Jennifer all the more reason to take whatever measure necessary to dampen its effects, if any, that could be harmful to Teyla.

Teyla continued, "It seems that you possess certain abilities that allow you to communicate with Wraith minds."

Seraih's eye's widened. "How is that possible?"

"Well," Jennifer interjected, "Teyla posses the same ability because she has Wraith DNA in her genetic code."

At Seraih's confused look, she explained further. "A long time ago, a Wraith scientist decided to experiment on humans to make the feeding process more . . .efficient. To do that, he experimented on humans, essentially making them part Wraith. However, the side effect was that the humans developed some of the Wraith's telepathic abilities."

Teyla broke in, "The Wraith found out about it, and shut the project down, but some of the test subjects escaped. One of them became my ancestor."

"You believe that I carry this Wraith genetic material as well?"

"Yes, it was the only plausible explanation for your abilities."

"Wait. What do you mean 'was'?" Ronon questioned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I am not part Wraith, as Teyla?" Seraih didn't miss a beat.

"No, you're not," Jennifer said. That was what Marc's test results had revealed.

It was Teyla's turn to look shocked. "I don't understand. How can she have these abilities and not be part Wraith."

Jennifer shook her head. "We don't know. But you definitely don't have any Wraith DNA."

"So, what does this mean? How did I come to be this way?"

"We don't know," Jennifer admitted. She hated not being able to provide more answers. "I would like to think that it's more than just some random genetic mutation," Jennifer said, thinking of Davos, the Seer, and his ability to see into the future. "It could be that your current physical state could have triggered some dormant genes. . ."

"You mean that I carry a child?"

"Yes, that could be a factor," Jennifer agreed. "I'd like to run some tests." She felt more than saw Ronon shift, and she glanced up to see that his face was a mask. Still, she could tell her words weren't sitting well with him. She focused on talking to Seraih, "It's only if you're willing. I may not find anything," she conceded.

"Very well," Seraih said in a measured tone. She stared at Jennifer for a moment, thinking. "I think there is something you should know."

Seraih sank back into the pillows propped behind her, eyes downcast as she toyed with the hem of the blanket covering her belly.

"She made me promise never to tell anyone, not even Andri," she said softly. "I only found out a few winters ago, when my Aunt fell ill. I suppose she figured it was better that I knew the truth, for whatever reason. . ."

Jen wanted to ask who _Andri_ was, but she knew it wasn't the time.

"What truth?" Ronon urged in an uncharacteristically gentle voice.

"I am . . ." she paused, biting her lip and tucking a few unruly tendrils behind her ear, only to have them spring free once more. "I was not born of Mira."

. . . . . . . . . . . .

_A/N: And the plot bunny turns. I was so just going to have Seraih possess Wraith DNA, but then the muse had something more interesting in mind. Nika – I think GLENN has immigrated to the Southern U.S. ;)_


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